by April Hill
"Ah, but you should care about this particular problem, my dear. I had hoped to let the water take care of the unpleasant detail of your death, but now it appears that I will have to find some other method. Still, I do believe in giving credit where credit is due," he said coldly. "You and Lieutenant McCann did work very well together—however briefly."
Beth looked up, but refused to give him the satisfaction of asking what he meant. "Maybe you just do crappy work, Felix," Beth said icily. "Maybe you're not the fabulous handyman you thought you were, or as smart. Maybe this grotesque Disneyland For The Dead you've spent years building is about to fall down on your sick, ugly head."
Kruger grabbed her by the hair, pulled her head back, and thrust another pill down her throat. "Go back to sleep, Miss Walker. I have important things to finish. Oh, and I'm afraid I had to borrow that rather large pot on your front porch—the one with the dead geraniums."
Five minutes later, Beth's words would seem like a premonition. The house came down on Kruger's head—and on hers.
* * * * *
"Are the cats all right?" she asked sleepily, as they put her in a waiting ambulance. "I left them upstairs, before…"
"They're fine," Adam said, squeezing her hand. "Kruger may have been a psychopath, but he evidently had a real soft spot for cats. Velvet's growing on me, by the way. Kruger told me she put her fangs in the back of his hand when he tried to pet her. He was planning on adding her to the potted plant collection."
"You promise me you're not hurt?" she pleaded.
"Hey, I worked my way through college as a lifeguard. I can still hold my breath for two or three minutes…okay, so almost three minutes, give or take a minute. But it helped that Ed thought I sounded funny on the phone and decided to call out the SWAT team. If they'd busted through that steel door in Kruger's basement a few seconds later…well, anyway, the guys showed up in time to fish me out. A few seconds after they got to your place, though, the damned house fell down."
Beth sighed. "I wish I could say I was sorry to see it go. I suppose I'm in big trouble," she mumbled. "Again."
He nodded. "The biggest, but it'll wait. Stop talking now and try to rest. They've given you something for the pain, and you're beginning to feel it. You'll be floating pretty soon."
"I'm already floating. Don't leave," she murmured. "Somebody just asked me my name, and I couldn't remember it. I think I said I was Grace Kelly."
"I won't leave. I'll be on the ambulance with you. And at the hospital."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"I don't think they let people ride in the ambulance."
"I bribed the driver. Told him I'd translate everything you said. You're not making a lot of sense."
"So, I'm not Grace Kelly, right?" And with that, she was out.
* * * * *
Beth was released from the hospital two days later, and went home to Adam's condo with nothing but a lightweight sling for her shoulder, and her foot bound in an ace bandage.
"I'm not as healthy as I look," she warned Adam, remembering his promise to punish her various infractions as soon as she recovered. "The doctor said a complete recovery could take weeks, maybe months. There could be several unexpected relapses, as well."
Adam smiled. "I think I'd like a second opinion on that, if it's okay with you. But there's no rush. I'm a patient man. I brought you a present, by the way."
"Let me guess," she said, with a sigh. "A new bathbrush? Replacement parts for the mini-blinds? A ping-pong set?"
"Nope. Those would be presents for me, not you." He disappeared into the hallway and returned with a brown cardboard box.
"What is it?"
"Something you never have enough of, apparently. Open it."
Beth put one cautious finger in the top of the box and opened the flap. A large white Persian cat stuck its head out and looked around disdainfully.
Beth stared. "Another cat?"
He nodded. "His name is Fluffy."
"The Fluffy?"
"None other. No one else wanted him, so I told them down at the station that I knew a woman who ran a mission for homeless cats in need of rehabilitation. But I think we'd better change his name. He looks like a sissy, and with a name like that, Velvet's going to beat the shit out of him."
THE END.
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April Hill
April Hill is a best-selling author of women’s romance, known for her wry humor, sensitive character development and of course, the love.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
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